Velvet Karens - Bombshell

******************************************************************************** Velvet Karens On Ludwig Vistalite drum kit - Kim On Höfner 500/1 Violin Bass Sunburst 1965 - Roxy On Gibson G-101 organ - Ivy On 1959 Gretsch 6120 hollowbody guitar - lead singer - Daisy ******************************************************************************** Ok… here we go… And... 1... 2... 3... 4... A brand new boy just landed in our street Jimmy Z is turning up the summer heat Muscles like iron, a face like a god Every single girl is acting weird and odd He kicks his Harley with a deep, low growl Making all our boyfriends look completely foul Every girl is ready to fight for her place Staring like idiots at his pretty face Pushing and pulling, grabbing each other's hair Fists are flying, people stop and stare Cursing and shouting all over the place No class, no style, just a total disgrace Jimmy Z, Jimmy Z, on his shiny machine Who's gonna be his neighborhood queen? The tension is rising, we're losing our minds Just another boy of the generic kind We are going crazy, we are going nuts Fighting in the street, showing no guts Friday night, the whole girl gang is out But the mood is heavy, full of fear and doubt There he stands, parked right by the ice cream bar Looking like a retro Hollywood movie star The sparks fly high, the bullshit starts right here Friendship is dead, we're acting so severe "I want him!" she screams, "I’m prettier than you!" "No way, with my body, he knows what to do!" Pushing and pulling, grabbing each other's hair Fists are flying, people stop and stare Cursing and shouting all over the place No class, no style, just a total disgrace Jimmy Z, Jimmy Z, on his shiny machine Who's gonna be his neighborhood queen? The tension is rising, we're losing our minds Just another boy of the generic kind We are going crazy, we are going nuts Fighting in the street, showing no guts Right in the chaos, the ice cream door swings wide We stop our fighting, our jaws drop to the side Out steps a bombshell, an absolute ten The kind of girl who ruins all the men A rebel-style covergirl, winning the prize She looks at the Harley with dangerous eyes Throws her leg over, sits on the back Holding him tight as the exhaust pipes crack The engine roars loud, they speed down the lane She turns around to maximize our pain Shows her middle finger with a mocking little wink Leaving us standing there with too much to think We look at each other... and we start to laugh the fight stops, we split it in half Come on girls, forget this stupid scene Let's head to the warehouse, if you know what I mean Grab the guitars, write a new trashy track About a rebel-style covergirl falling off the back! Haha! To the warehouse!